Secret of the Scrap Yard
by TRikiD
Summary: "I am sorry that you couldn't make it just a little longer. You were a fairly useful and wise engine. But all engines—whether they're steam, diesel, or even non-railroad—come to the Scrap Yard in the end."
1. Prologue - Perfect Scrap

**There will be intense violence, gore, and swearing. You have been warned.**

* * *

Secret of the Scrap Yard

Prologue - Perfect Scrap

The contents of a sickening red and green spilled from his mouth due to a reaction to the poison, which was a protocol for killing the engine faster; it was first made as a modified type of coal that released a suffocating gas when combusted in the firebox, and then a liquid dose of it was forced down the engine's mouth and nostrils to shut down the lungs and clear the stomach.

But despite it all, Edward would not give up. He was an engine as old as dirt, and he had been through many tragedies and accidents in his youth. But now, he was old and slow, and too weak to get work done like he used to.

The blue engine hung from a giant rusted claw, his tender having already been ripped from him, so his water had long dried out and his throat was parched; that didn't help his troubled breathing, but he kept fighting to stay awake.

"I'm impressed that the brain hasn't already given up like the useless scrap before me," a voice spoke up dryly from the foreboding darkness surrounding the single overhead light above the crane that held Edward.

"F-Fuck you!" the said old engine hissed, coughing violently and hacking up even more blood, as it splattered into a puddle of blood and guts on the cold concrete below.

"You don't get to be angry here! I'm only doing my job!" the same voice snapped, "And you should've seen this coming, anyway."

"But why?! I thought*cough**couch*…I-I thought we were friends…"

"It was all an act. Those that work at the Scrap Yard swear an oath not to get too attached, for it's pointless—and they might grow _soft_ because they feel sorry for engines on death row like you."

"I-I'm still…useful…"

"Useful?! Ha! That's genuine comedy right there." The mystery figure's amused tone quickly flipped back to a deep growl. "You've broken down five times in the last two months. You know the rules: Two break downs every six months. No exceptions."

"Th-Then why…did you wait…for me?"

"Topham extended your time because you've been on this island for so long, but I think it's just weakness. He considers you an old friend—a _very_ old friend, which is why you're here."

Just as the mystery figure said that, two more crane arms were lowered, whirring as the gun-like structures at the end were calibrated to aim at either side of Edward.

"Fire it up!" the shadow called demandingly. Immediately, the whirring continued, growing louder and faster as seconds past, and a bright orange and yellow light emitted from both ends of the metal barrels as flames burst forth. They started out small, but they were large and hot enough to slowly burn the paint on Edward's boiler and dome.

Edward grunted in great pain, refusing to let out screams of submission like _He_ wanted; he knew he was about to die, but he would show nothing but bravery in his final moments. It didn't get better for him, though, as the flames soon reached his firebox, raising the already scalding hot temperatures within.

"Before you're charred to a crisp, there's something I'd like you to know," the mystery figure calmly pointed out, getting close enough to be exposed to the light, but kept far enough away from the fires; he was a small engine with bright blue paint, but his side tanks were covered by black flame retardant leather to keep his number hidden, and he wore a triangular mask; it was made of silver tungsten metal, with eye holes made of thick, black glass, and a razor sharp mouth piece shaped like a bird's beak that covered his nose and mouth, all of which served as protection from the heat and chemicals.

"I am sorry that you couldn't make it just a little longer. You were a fairly useful and wise engine. But all engines—whether they're steam, diesel, or even non-railroad—come to the Scrap Yard in the end."

"P-Please! Don't do this!" Edward shouted at the top of his lungs, trying his best to ignore the pain of the fires in and outside of him.

The masked engine remained silent for a moment, staring back blankly before finally stating, "Burn him out."

The mere second those words were spoken, the flamethrowers were switched to full power, instantly engulfing Edward in unforgiving heat equivalent to Hell. The old engine finally let out a blood-curdling scream, for he was no longer able to hold back. Just as he opened his mouth, the fire in his firebox had grown too great to be contained, and burst out through his mouth and eyes.

By the time the flamethrowers were beginning to shut off, the rest of his face, as well as all other vital organs and fleshy parts, were burned away while the mechanical parts were merely slightly charred; most of his blue paint was burned off while what little paint that remained was chipped and black as night. The once joyful and helpful Edward the Number Two engine was now nothing but a malleable shell.

Perfect scrap.

* * *

 **There's more to the Scrap Yard that meets the eye, and it's not just flashing red lights and smoke to scare the kids. No, it's much worse. Stay tuned and you will find out how this place really operates, and who controls it.**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


	2. Chapter 1 - Faith

Chapter 1 - Faith

Morning over Brendam Docks was misty and calm, just like all cloudless mornings near the shore; the bright yellow and bubbly she-crane named Carly was as energetic as ever, keeping her fellow male co-workers awake, especially when she was the first to spot another boat approaching.

But what really caught their attention was the strange cargo on board; it was a new tank engine they had never seen before, due to the obvious fact that they were of the rare LB&SCR E2 0-6-0T Class with a coat of tangerine paint, and LB&SCR was painted in bright yellow on their side tanks.

"Hi there!" Carly was first to greet with a friendly smile when the boat stopped.

"H-Hello," the young engine replied in a small and feminine voice, as Cranky carefully picked her up and brought her on land, where Salty and Portland were waiting to greet her.

"Hello, Little Lass. My name is Salty, and this is Portland, Cranky, Carly, and Big Mickey," Salty explained, going around introducing all of his friends.

"I'm Faith. And not to be rude, but I really need to go. I'm looking for Mr. Thomas," the new engine quickly informed.

"Mr. Thomas?!" Portland repeated with a hardy laugh, "He's no 'mister' here, Faith. He's just 'Thomas'."

Suddenly, the air was pierced by a short and high-pitched whistle; the others all recognized that it was none other than Mr. Coffee Pot himself, Glynn.

"And 'Just Thomas' is waiting for you, Faith," Glynn stated jokingly, winking at Faith in a knowing way.

"Oh, you must be the first Number One! It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Glynn," Faith pointed out in excitement.

"The feeling is mutual, Faith. Now, let's go find Thomas—he's been eagerly awaiting your arrival."

With that, Glynn and Faith puffed away in search of the famous and modern Number One engine, leaving the main employees of Brendan Docks behind with the realization of another new and rare engine on Sodor.

"She is just the sweetest thing, calling everyone mister and everything like that," Carly giggled.

"And clever, too. How did she know who Glynn was?" Cranky pondered aloud in disbelief, but the others simply stated, "I don't know."

* * *

Things just weren't the same around Tidmouth Sheds and in other nearby yards without Edward. His kind voice and wisdom was quite favored amongst his fellow steam engines; even Gordon and James couldn't believe he was finally gone after all the years he had pulled through.

Though, not everyone was aware of the fact that the reason behind Edward's disappearance was dark and malicious; Percy, being so young and innocent, was not yet exposed to the truth, for his friends feared his heart would break and never heal.

But the promise only applied to the steam engines; other engines, such as Devious Diesel, weren't aware of it. Not that he would have cared.

And on this very afternoon, with the knowledge Diesel gained of Edward's Scrapping, he would be working with Percy in a shunting near Knapford. And also knowing how easily Percy's emotions can be tampered with, Diesel was certain this would be the perfect opportunity to scar him.

"Afternoon, Percy," Diesel stated nonchalantly when he pulled up to the said green engine, who was waiting to be coupled up to a short train of freight cars.

"Good afternoon, Diesel," Percy greeted back with as much empathy as he could, but the sorrow in his voice was just too obvious. Diesel immediately took notice of it.

"Say, where's Old Edward? Didn't he work here all the time?"

"I-I wish I knew. But he just mysteriously disappeared."

"Oh, no."

Percy didn't like the sound of Diesel's worried tone, "What? What is it? Do you know where he is?"

"I think so—but you won't like it, Percy."

"Please, tell me! I'm really worried!"

Diesel sighed in defeat, but he was ecstatic inside to break the terrible news, "Well—since Edward is an old engine, and he's been breaking down a lot—I wouldn't be surprised if he's been…been…"

"What?!"

"I really shouldn't say."

"Say _what_ , exactly?" Thomas hissed when he approached, catching Diesel off guard with his surprisingly harsh tone.

"Diesel says he thinks he knows what happened to Edward," Percy was quick to defend the said devious diesel, but Thomas was not buying it.

"The only ones you should trust around here are your friends, Percy. Not this dastardly, grimy diesel," Thomas stated with a grimace, even looking Diesel in the eye with no remorse at the last part.

"Nice ta see you, too, Thomas," Diesel retorted sarcastically before finally oiling away to do his job, but not before cursing under his breath, "Blue bitch."

"Is something wrong? You're not usually so—brutally honest," Percy asked Thomas in concern, trying to find the right words without sounding too harsh.

"I'm sorry. I've just been really stressed lately. And with Edward gone, there's even less help around here," Thomas apologized with an exhausted sigh.

"I wish we knew what happened to him. I miss him," Percy added sadly.

"I miss him, too. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll turn up."

Right after Thomas said that, Glynn's whistle could be heard from across the yard, and he soon arrived with Faith close behind; both of them were excited to finally see Thomas.

"Hello, Thomas!" Faith shouted happily.

"There you are, Faith, I've been waiting for you," Thomas pointed out with a chuckle, but then remembered his other company, "Um, Percy, do you mind? I've been asked to give Faith a tour."

"Oh, sorry! And it's nice to meet you, Faith. I'm Thomas' best friend, Percy," Percy politely explained while puffing away. But once he was out of hearing range and the others started to leave the yard, Thomas sent Glynn a cross look.

"Why did you bring her directly to me?!" he snapped under his breath, "I thought I told you to bring her to the Scrap Yard and wait for me."

"I didn't have time to wait. Millie would have my back all week if I don't get back to Ulfstead before dark," Glynn quietly protested, "Besides, the Scrap Yard's been too modernized for me. You know your way around it better than I do."

"We're going to the Scrap Yard already, Thomas?" Faith asked in surprise, coming up on Thomas' other side.

"Yes. You need to be familiarized with the routine as soon as possible. And another thing: When you address me, it's Mister Thomas. Understood?" the said blue engine spat in annoyance, taking the younger engine by even more surprise, given how kindly he acted just a moment ago.

* * *

Halfway to the Scrap Yard, Glynn had left to return to Ulfstead to take care of his chores there, leaving Faith with Thomas to show her the rest of the way. Upon arrival, the sun was already beginning to set, creating a crimson blanket across the clear sky.

"Hey, red night, sailor's delight," Faith pointed out as she stared up into the red sky.

"Huh?" Thomas inquired.

"It's an old saying that means the weather will be nice for a while."

"What's so great about that? There's always going to be a storm ahead, and there's nothing we can do to stop it. You should know that by now."

"Yeah, but—I just thought you might like to know."

"I appreciate your kindness, but only for now. When you enter through these doors, you can't let anyone or anything get to you. Do you know why, Faith?"

The two LB&SCR E2 engines came up to the large, metal doors that created a barrier between the outside world and the cruel world within its walls.

"Because those who work at the Scrap Yard swear an oath not to get too attached," Faith firmly replied, trying to raise her confidence for her new boss/mentor.

Thomas let out a short chuckle of appeasement, and he continued forward as the doors opened for him, Faith following close behind. As soon as the doors opened, there was nothing but rusty claws and hooks hanging from the ceiling, flashing and spinning warning lights, and the smell of blood, ashes, and decay.

Thomas sped up to get ahead onto a turn table, gently running into a large lever at the other side and backing up into the middle as he spun around ninety degrees. When he stopped, two metallic arms slowly descended while carrying a piece of somewhat flat metal. It wasn't until the arms adjusted the metal to fit onto Thomas' face that Faith realized it was a mask; it was shaped like a triangle, shimmered like silver, its eyes were made of thick and dark glass, and a bird-like piece extended down over his nose and mouth.

"Whoa. Do I get a mask like that?" Faith questioned in curiosity.

"You will eventually. You need to prove to me that you can handle running this facility first, "Thomas replied, his voice coming out surprisingly fluent and clear through the mask, "If you don't—well, let's just say you won't _just_ lose the opportunity to get a specially-made mask."

Faith couldn't help but gulp in fear at that, but followed right behind Thomas when he rolled off of the turntable, but stopped abruptly once more. Faith glanced up to find a spacious tarp of black leather being lowered by four more mechanical arms, and they were also careful to fit the leather tightly over Thomas' boiler and side tanks.

"Hold still," Thomas instructed once his leather was strapped on, and Faith gasped when she saw a smaller blanket of leather being lowered towards her; she felt the need to hold her breath, but she overreacted as it was merely draped over her. It wasn't even enough to fully cover her side tanks.

"This'll protect you from the heat and chemicals. And sorry for the small fit. I'll start measuring you for better wear once I know you've got what it takes. Follow me," Thomas explained, puffing on once more with Faith behind him, "So, tell me, Faith. What do you know about Scrapping Philosophy?"

"Well, I know that when an engine's time comes, he or she is stripped of their metal, so it can be polished and renewed to be useful for other building and architecture industries."

"Is that what they told you back on the Mainland?"

"Yes, mostly."

"What else did they say?"

"They said that only a few select engines are chosen for the job, but-."

"But _what_?"

"But I still don't exactly understand why. Why is Scrapping so frowned upon?"

"If you looked at it from a different perspective—say, the engines getting scrapped—you would be surprised. But not that it matters. You're here because they obviously saw something special in you on the Mainland, so I'm going to teach you everything you need to know about Scrapping."

"But what makes me special?"

"I guess we'll find out."

They soon entered a room at the far end of the building, the doors once again opening them with perfect timing, and it was much brighter and cleaner than the rooms they recently encountered; conveyer belts moved with constant speed, and larger and more heavily wired mechanical arms whirred at numerous different stations; some were for scrubbing off rust and old paint, some sanitized the metal in a vat of chemicals, some boomed loudly like a giant walking to press the metal nice and flat, and some wielded special sponges and cloth to polish the metal until it glistened.

"Wow," Faith breathed in awe.

"I know. This is just a very small portion of what our usual quotas should be, though. We only had one Scrapping recently," Thomas explained, "And this isn't even where the fun is. The real excitement is through _these_ doors."

They then reached another set of thick doors, and Faith hastily entered to see the so-called "real excitement" inside. But what she saw was far more overwhelming than the first room.

"Welcome to the Scrapping Chamber, Faith," Thomas stated, a twinge of insanity on his tongue as he spoke.

Much like the first room, there were long chains with large hooks and claws at the end, but they were covered in dried blood and small chunks of flesh hung from them; there were countless puddles and piles of the same content scattered across the chambers, to which they were all separated by walls of metal and large glass windows.

As they passed the first few, Faith noticed that the smell of decay was stronger than in the other chambers, and she easily figured out why; a skeletal remain of an engine with eight wheels was hanging mercilessly by a few giant hooks, and there was a tipped over tender in the far corner with the number two on it. Despite knowing where she was, Faith felt like she was going to be sick, but kept it down for the sake of looking brave in front of Thomas.

"W-What…h-happened?" she questioned, unable to hide the quiver in her voice.

"He was scrapped. His name was Edward, a kind and wise engine, but old nonetheless. Any longer, and he would've caused confusion and delay. That's where I come in," Thomas informed flatly.

Faith looked at him in shock, " _You_ did this?"

"Why are you surprised? You knew I ran this facility long before you arrived here."

"Of course I knew! I just didn't know you did… _that_!"

"I do what it takes to give the world the scrap they need, and purge it of the old and useless engines that harbor it. And when— _if_ —you're ready, you'll do what it takes, too."

"I-I…don't think I can." Faith blinked her tears away.

"You have to. Because I promise you, if you don't prove you can handle managing this Scrap Yard, you will go deaf from the sound of your own screams, and you'll drown in your own blood. Am I clear on that?" Thomas growled like an animal, as red warning lights flashed on all around them.

Faith could taste nothing but bile, "Y-Yes…M-Mr. Thomas."

* * *

 **How do you guys think Faith will do on her test to see if she can handle the duties of running the Scrap Yard? Will she pass or fail?**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


	3. Chapter 2 - Disappointment

Chapter 2 - Disappointment

Thomas had told Faith to get as much sleep as she could that night, but she was restless; the discovery she made was more than she could have ever expected. Sure, she was sent to be trained and become the next controller of the Sodor Branch of Scrap Yards, but she didn't know she would have to scrap engines that were still alive!

 _No wonder they said the number one rule in Scrapping Philosophy is not to get too close…heh…haha! I'm going to go insane here, or die trying, aren't I?!_ Faith thought in realization, a twisted smile creeping onto her face as tears once again threatened to spill from her eyes.

The small and foreboding shed she was kept in didn't help her rattled state, especially since it was locked from the outside, and the only source of light was a dim red light on the back wall.

Just then, a loud CLUNK could be heard from outside, and the door split open to reveal Thomas; he was wearing his leather and mask again, which didn't surprise Faith much anymore. What _did_ surprise her was that he was back so soon. Has a whole day really gone by?

"Up an' at 'em, Faith," was Thomas' quick statement before backing away to let Faith out into the main room of the Scrap Yard.

"When can I go back outside?" Faith couldn't help but ask, glancing at the entrance/exit of the facility that felt so close yet so far.

"You've only been in here for about twenty four hours, and that's being generous. You'd better get used to seeing the same bloodied walls for a _looong_ time because you're not leaving without my permission. Either way, you're sworn to secrecy from this moment on."

Faith's eyes popped wide, "You don't tell everyone what you're doing? That's wrong! They deserve to know!"

In the blink of an eye, claws swung down, clinging to Faith's cab and wheels and digging into her boiler until she was lifted off of the tracks; she cried in terror and pain, and even behind his mask, she could tell that Thomas was wearing nothing short of a cold glare.

"You mean, they deserve to know they're all being lead on by false hope and deceit, that there's always going to be a merciless and inescapable death waiting for them?! All because they can't help being made of metal?!" Thomas boomed at the top of his lungs effortlessly, making Faith's ears ring.

"I-I…I didn't-."

"If I let it slip that that's what's waiting for them, it would cause a huge panic!"

Even as Faith was being lowered back onto the tracks and the claws let go, blood leaked from the fresh puncture wounds on her boiler; although, the hooks on her wheels kept their tight hold on her, rendering her immobile. A few more metal arms reached down to remove Thomas' mask, so that he could finally show Faith the consequence of her incompetence; just as Faith expected, he was gritting his teeth and there was a raging fire in his eyes.

"Don't ever let me catch you thinking about their welfare again," he hissed like there was poison on his tongue, and his eyes burned through to Faith's soul; her gaze locked with his for what seemed like an eternity.

"O-Ok…ok…I'm sorry," Faith eventually apologized, her voice stronger than she thought it would be despite the trauma.

Thomas spoke again, softer yet still powerful, as his mask was being put back on, "You must know that everything I do is for the sake of keeping balance. If traditions dating back centuries were broken because one little, yellow-bellied engine like you couldn't do the job, the world around us would collapse."

"But why _us_? Why were _we_ chosen to lie to them?"

"No one would see it coming. They see us smaller engines as mere paperweight, only capable of handling smaller, much simpler tasks. And that's one of the best parts about all this—we get to crush their hopes in their final moments." Faith didn't know how, but she could practically see the growing smile behind Thomas' mask as he chuckled.

"W-Wait a minute…" Faith stuttered in realization, "Why did you bring me out here?"

"I'm glad you asked. You're going to Scrap your first engine today."

"What?!"

"You're going to, whether you want to or not!" Thomas' voice echoed throughout the facility as the claws on Faith's wheels lifted her up once more; they didn't cause any pain like last time, but she cried again as she swung around while being carried all the way to the Scrapping Chamber, and Thomas puffed below her.

"The chamber Edward was in was Row Three, Section Five. All chambers in Rows One through Three use fire for the Scrapping process. But there has always been more than one way to skin a cat—or engine in this case," Thomas informed, his grin remaining as they came up to a room towards the back of the long corridor.

"This is Row Eight, Section Sixteen." Faith was finally set down when Thomas said that, but she was put down inside a pitch black chamber while Thomas stayed outside and the doors closed.

"Since you're a beginner," he went on, his voice coming through with slight static on the intercom system in the closed off room, "I thought you should start off with something simpler. Activate Guest Mode!"

Three high-pitched beeps rang through the air to confirm Thomas' command.

"There. Now, you can tell it what to do."

Just then, the lights were switched on to show Faith what she was really dealing with, but she threw up in her mouth in seconds flat, luckily swallowing it back; like she had been moments ago, a narrow gauge engine with dark red paint hung from giant hooks that dug into his boiler, two of which stretched his cheeks as they poked through.

"Hel…ne…" was all he could say with his significantly limited ability to speak, as he stared down at Faith with bloodshot eyes.

"Faith, meet Skarloey, the number one and oldest engine on Mr. Pericval's narrow gauge railroad. I'm sure you know why he's here by now."

"N-No…he looks just fine! He shouldn't be here!" Faith argued, unable to look away from the helpless engine before her.

"Looks can be deceiving. Mr. Percival himself said Skarloey was getting too old and breaking down too often, and that he needed to look for a new engine to take his place as soon as possible. It's just the way of the world."

At that, two large blades were lowered in front of Skarloey's face.

"Rows Seven and Eight use computerized blades with precise aim and measuring to disconnect the engine's entire nervous system from the brain. Not only does it kill them faster, but it's the quickest pain we can offer here. It's much less painful than being burned to death, at least, and I didn't want that weighing on your conscience."

"H-How am I supposed to do this?" Faith honestly didn't want the answer, for she never wanted to hurt Skarloey from the moment she saw him. If anything, she wanted to help. But she knew she couldn't, not with Thomas here.

"All you have to do is say, 'Remove the brain'," Thomas simply replied.

"No! I can't!" Faith shouted in utter terror, as the blades continued to whir while adjusting to the size of Skarloey's face and find the proper area of nerves to sever.

"What did I tell you?! You can't be weak! Do it!" Thomas scolded, "Activate Thomas _and_ Guest Mode!"

Three more chimes sounded to obey his command.

"If you don't do it, he'll suffer." Thomas paused and glanced at Skarloey. "Remove the brain! Start with point-two speed!"

The blades drew closer until the finally cut into the skin of Skarloey's face, cutting at the very edge at agonizingly slows speeds. It was too much for Skarloey, letting out a blood-curdling scream as soon as the blades entered him.

"Make it stop!" Faith begged, but she didn't expect it to actually happen; the blades immediately ceased their cutting, awaiting her next set of instructions.

"It can't stop! That's not how Scrapping works! It must continue!" Thomas retaliated.

The cutting continued. Skarloey screamed again.

"No, I won't let it! Stop!"

The cutting stopped. Skarloey huffed and coughed up blood. By now, Faith was sobbing uncontrollably, to which Thomas was not amused with.

"Deactivate Guest Mode," he stated firmly, waiting for the three chimes again before continuing, "Continue with point-ten speed."

Faith couldn't blink, but it all happened within a flash; the blades whipped around, and the hooks through Skarloey's face yanked it clean off, revealing a crimson wall of flesh behind it, as his glossy eyes and bare jaw were now visible. A third arm soon came down with a curved spade, which went to work on removing the rest of the flesh that blocked his firebox. It wasn't even taken away, but instead dropped into a dried pile of gore in the corner, which was swarming with flies.

Faith finally closed her eyes, letting out the sobs and vomit she had been holding back since yesterday. Thomas rolled his eyes and the doors opened, letting him in to examine the carnage with a closer view.

"Get back to your shed," Thomas sated softly.

"What?" Faith questioned in shock.

"Now."

Faith flinched at his tone, but complied and exited the room she now feared most, and headed back to her shed without another word.

"We've got a lot of work to do," Thomas sighed in defeat, glancing up at Skarloey's face still hanging on the hooks above him, which still remained in one piece and looked like Edvard Munch's The Scream, "Oh, don't give me that look, Skarloey. _You're_ the one that wouldn't shut up."

* * *

Once he was sure the Scrap Yard was locked up good and tight, with Faith still inside of course, Thomas left by the time the sun was setting to get back to Tidmouth Sheds. But before he would turn in for the night, he stopped by the wash down station to get his mind off of Faith's pathetic first day of training.

But in the darkness, Thomas failed to notice that he wasn't alone as he was being gently scrubbed.

"I thought _I_ was the only one who took a late Sunday wash down," a familiar voice chuckled from the other side of the station. Thomas knew immediately who it was.

"Hello, Glynn," he greeted dryly, not even bothering to open his eyes to be pulled from his relaxation.

"So, how's the new kid?"

"Absolutely disappointing."

"She failed her first Scrapping, didn't she?" Glynn inquired matter-of-factly.

"Is it that obvious?" Thomas huffed in exasperation.

"Mostly. But remember, you were young and fragile once, too. I remember when you couldn't finish Scrapping your first engine either. I had to do it for you."

"Hey, I was young and emotional back then!"

"Exactly. So, maybe you shouldn't be so hard on Faith. You may not see it, but she was just like you when you were her age."

Thomas scoffed, "You're one to talk. You locked me in with a rotting corpse for three days."

"I was helping you build character, and look where it got you," Glynn calmly protested, "I really am proud of you, but just know that you need to be patient with her. Do you know how many times I've thought of Scrapping you because you wouldn't stop crying in your sleep? I dealt with your petty bullshit for years, and you've only had Faith for a day and a half, so don't talk to me about disappointment."

The two engines were silent through the rest of their wash down, and it wasn't long before both were rinsed and dried off. Glynn was first to puff away and head home.

"I don't want to hear anymore complaining anytime soon," he instructed firmly before disappearing into the night.

Thomas stared out with a grimace, even when there was nothing else to focus on in the darkness, "Whatever you say, _Boss_."

* * *

 **The first day is never usually easy, especially when it involves murdering in cold blood. Poor Faith.**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


	4. Chapter 3 - Flashback: First Day

Chapter 3 - Flashback: First Day

It was Thomas' first day in the Scrap Yard, and Glynn had already been pretty ruthless with him, not caring in the slightest if he was scarred for life. In less than half a day, Thomas was already exposed to the big secret about the facility and Sodor itself.

Glynn was finishing up with Scrapping another old engine; it was the second one in a whole day, and while Glynn was feeling wily, Thomas could not get the sickening images of the first two engines' deaths out of his head.

The first engine was chained down the floor, completely unable to move, and copper wires were strapped all around her while most of them lead into her mouth and deep down her throat; she was already bleeding internally from the sharp wires cutting her esophagus, and the room was closed off to prevent any drainage as water began to fill it. Her cries were muffled by her stretched cheeks, and the water only rose high enough to reach her mouth; she breathed rapidly and heavily through her nose, thankful she could still fill her lungs with air. But the relief was short-lived; all four walls were charged with countless watts of electricity, and the highly conductive water and copper around her effortlessly charred her until her entire system shut down. Her skeleton flashed brightly, even after she had died, and black smoke rose from her smokestack, a clear sign that her internal organs were barbecued.

The second engine seemed luckier, but he suffered horrifically nonetheless. Glass was forced down his throat to draw blood and lubricate his insides enough for the next step; a large metal arm with feather-like blades encircled around it was lowered in front of his face, shoving them deep inside of him mercilessly. He didn't feel much pain at first, but his insides were sliced in the blink of an eye when the blades opened up in a perfect circle, even cutting through his tank. They spun at blinding speeds until his face and upper half of his diesel tank were no longer connected, and they dropped to the floor with a loud CLANK.

Glynn forced Thomas to sit through it all, even using tiny mechanical arms to peel his eyelids back so that he couldn't close his eyes to look away. Thomas' eyes were bloodshot from his tears, and his breath reeked of the vomit he spilled onto his buffers and the floor. Glynn, too, wore a mask when he was working at the Scrap Yard, and his face curled back in disgust behind it; it was made of black titanium metal, shaped like a rectangle to fit his face of the same shape, and there was a piece in the shape of a semi-circle that covered his nose and mouth.

"Great. Yes, go ahead and make another mess for me to clean up," Glynn huffed sarcastically.

"Why do you have to be so cruel to your own kind?! What did they do to deserve this?!" Thomas sobbed uncontrollably.

"Nothing. They're simply too old for work, and their metal can be used to help others, including _much younger_ engines who can't afford the high-class metal those big cats sell."

"But why do _we_ have to do it?!"

"Because we know how hard life can be! Sometimes, it even feels like it's pointless, so why let those who can't help the world anymore continue on?!"

The tiny arms keeping Thomas' eyes peeled open finally let go, letting him blink to hydrate his eyes and see Glynn clearly. And as he stared at the monster before him, his lips quivered as even more tears spilled, "W-What're you talking ab-bout?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about, Thomas. Your previous owners on the Mainland told me everything about you, so there's nothing I don't know." Thomas' eyes widened in utter shock. "I know you were abused by your first owner, who gave you that horrid scar hidden behind your smokestack, and you were violated by much bigger engines in a heartbeat. You contemplated suicide for a long time, but you were placed under heavy watch when you were transferred here to become my predecessor."

Glynn knew instantly that he triggered something in the young engine's mind, something dark and grim that he never wished to dig back up.

"I-I…never u-understood…why it happened…to m-m-me…" Thomas eventually spoke, his voice shaky and barely over a whisper, as his eyes shut tightly to try and unsee those memories. But to no avail.

"That's exactly my point. You can relate when I say the world and those who inhabit it will forever be cruel, whether or not they have a reason." Glynn's face started out soft when he began, but quickly turned to a cold scowl. "You know exactly how it feels to be ridiculed by those who are heartless, but you can't take your anger out on anything because you're too small and helpless. Well, now _you're_ the one who gets to be ruthless, and this time, it's for a good cause."

The teal engine looked up at Glynn again, but with more understanding and patience, "Is that why you wear the Number One?"

"Why else would we wear it? All who bear this number are given it for a reason: It symbolizes the bravery and willingness to sacrifice for the greater good of this world, and sometimes even the hardships they went through to earn it."

"By ending innocent lives?"

Glynn grinned at that, "Not all of them are innocent."

"What do you mean?" Thomas questioned with a quirked brow.

"Come with me."

Thomas followed, albeit very reluctantly after seeing what Glynn was capable of, as Glynn led him towards the back of the Scrapping Chamber; he soon noticed the faint number sixteen painted above a doorway to the left, as well as the skeletal remains of an engine hanging from rusty claws inside.

"This is— _was_ —Timothy, an LB&SCR E2 class engine like you, but he wasn't nearly as naïve as you," Glynn pointed out grimly.

"How do you know?" Thomas inquired as he was just barely able to hold back the rest of his stomach's contents; most of Timothy's metal was removed by now, but his flesh had yet to be disposed as flies swarmed his rotting body.

"Not only was he old, but he was sentenced to death for murdering his driver and fireman."

Thomas gasped, "Really?!"

"Yes. Not so innocent now, are they?"

The younger engine didn't say anything, as his eyes drifted downward in realization that his argument was null and void for the most part. And before he could apologize, he found himself being pushed into Timothy's room against his own will, as Glynn chuckled darkly from behind.

"W-What're you doing?!" Thomas shrieked as he tried to back out, but he wasn't fast enough when Glynn closed the doors after he exited. He was trapped.

The intercom system within screeched as Glynn prepared to speak into it to talk to Thomas through the thick walls and glass, "You need to reflect on your ignorance. I'm giving you seventy two hours. And when I let you out, I expect you to have grown a backbone."

With that, Glynn puffed out of the Scrapping Chamber while ignoring Thomas' shrill cries to let him out; he closed the doors behind him and shut off all the lights, sans for the one in the room Thomas and Timothy were in. No matter how many times he told himself it was all just a bad dream and that he would wake up, Thomas couldn't escape it.

He was stuck facing directly towards Timothy, whose eyes had been removed and created two pitch black, bottomless pits that stared back at him unblinkingly. That face would forever haunt Thomas in his dreams and waking life.

* * *

 **Well, now we know what Thomas' excuse is for being so hard on Faith.**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


	5. Chapter 4 - The Rusted Bird

Chapter 4 - The Rusted Bird

With no more engines to scrap at the moment, Thomas came up with the idea to clean up the Scrapping Chamber a little in order to help Faith to try and cope with the fact that she is forever trapped here. Since the smell of older rotting flesh was almost too unbearable without holding your breath for long periods of time, Thomas decided to clean out chamber sixteen first, where their most recent Scrapping happened just two days ago.

Faith was surprisingly ecstatic to see Thomas again, given that she had been left all alone in her locked shed while he had to go back out and work, as to not raise any suspicion. She didn't say much as she watched Thomas cleaned, still confused as to how he could possibly operate anything in the whole building without any humans to help.

"U-Um…Mr. Thomas?" Faith eventually piped up, her voice sheepish.

"Yes?" was Thomas' flat response, never taking his gaze away from chamber sixteen.

"H-How, uh…how do you do all that? Run the building and computers on your own, I mean?"

"You may or may not find out later. It all depends."

"On what?"

"How devoted you truly are to this facility." There was a long, awkward pause before Thomas spoke up again, but he spoke without the slightest sound of remorse in his tone. "Oh, and don't be surprised if we get another engine really soon. There's someone who works with Glynn at Ulfstead Castle that's on his last wheels."

Faith seemed to perk up at that, "A castle? There's a castle here on Sodor?"

"Sure is. I'm fairly certain it was built back in medieval times."

"Wow. Is it big?" the young engine breathed in awe.

"It's very big, very old, and very classy."

"Will I get to see it?"

"Again, that depends. Are you willing to let me help you find the piece of your mind that's just _begging_ to Scrap?"

Faith's lip quivered, "I-I just…I still don't know if I can."

"Sure you will." Despite him trying to reassure her, Thomas only made things worse when a robotic arm dropped a large piece of wet flesh into a large basin in front of them; there was already a large collection of gore inside the basin, to which it was full enough to be taken away and be replaced by an empty and not-so new one.

"Uh, this may be a stupid question—but has anyone ever escaped here?" Faith reluctantly questioned, fearing she may have angered her short-tempered boss. But to her surprise, Thomas remained calm and collected with his answer.

"Of course not. Chances of escape are impossible without my permission, and there are only two reasons anyone would be here: You're getting Scrapped, or you're being tested to see if you should become the next controller of the facility. One circumstance is clearly less consequential of death than the other."

"Yeah…" Faith paused awkwardly. "Well, I heard a rumor about an engine who escaped the Barry Scrap Yard before I came here."

Thomas' eyes widened and finally averted their attention to Faith, "That prestige facility on the Mainland?"

"That's the one. No one could remember the engine's face or name, but they called them the Rusted Bird," Faith continued.

"'Rusted Bird'?" Thomas repeated with a sneer.

"Yeah. What they _could_ recall about them was that they were very rusty, and he just vanished, kind of like how a bird flies away without a trace."

"Interesting. Their escape must've been a huge embarrassment for the facility. I know I wouldn't show my face for a long while if that happened to me," Thomas admitted.

"What would you do if you found them?" Faith inquired curiously.

"Anyone who escaped me, or the Rusted Bird?"

"Both, I guess?"

"I'd Scrap them, of course. And if I ever find that 'Rusted Bird', I'll be sure to give them the worst Scrapping yet since they had the gall to refuse their rightful demise."

* * *

Thomas only managed to clean up half of the mess by the time he grew too tired, and once again made sure Faith was secure in her shed before heading off to Tidmouth Sheds as the sun set. But to his surprise, there were more engines at Tidmouth Sheds than usual when he arrived; luckily, his shed was left empty, so he yawned and contently backed into it.

"You look terrible," Percy couldn't help but state out of worry when his best friend pulled in next to him, and he couldn't take his eyes of the dark circles under his eyes.

"Gee, thanks," Thomas added sarcastically.

"Sorry. You just look so tired. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

Thomas yawned, "Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Forget about that. You both need to get ready for tonight," James cut in rudely.

"About that. What's going on, and why so many engines?" Thomas questioned with a quirked brow; it was quite obvious that not just steam engines were gathering around, for there were engines from Callan Yard, engines from Ulfstead Castle, engines from Brendam Docks, and even a few diesel engines had shown up. The only ones that Thomas couldn't find were the narrow gauge engines.

"Didn't you hear? It's Fright Night!" Percy exclaimed in excitement.

"'Fright Night'?" Thomas parroted.

"With Halloween just around the corner, Sir Topham Hatt let us celebrate a little early for all our hard work this past year. The main event is telling scary stories, and I'm so excited! I won't even get scared or cry this year."

James scoffed, "Of course you won't—when pigs fly."

"Hey!"

"Leave him alone, James. If the young'un wants to have fun for one night, then so be it," Glynn firmly defended Percy, as he puffed into Toby's usual spot to sit next to Thomas. James scoffed again and rolled his eyes, but his obvious dismay was drowned out when the majority of the engines suddenly gathered around the turntable.

"What's up with them?" Thomas asked.

"Haven't you been listening? It's _story time_ ," Glynn replied mockingly. The two remained in the back, but listened closely as everyone soon went quiet to choose who would go first. Eventually, Percy was selected, and he began his story of his first encounter with a ghost engine; frankly, as his 'best friend' went on, Thomas' thoughts wandered to another young engine that acted as a thorn in side.

"Anymore advice you could give me about training Faith?" Thomas whispered to his mentor once he was certain everybody was either focused Percy or too bored to listen.

"I was wondering when you'd come crawling back about that," Glynn admitted before pondering, "You need to do what I did to you: Encourage her."

"With what? A half-promise that she'll go outside soon?" the current owner of the Scrap Yard suggested sarcastically.

"Not just that. It needs to be something bigger, something she'll remember. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of sorts."

Suddenly, James shouted to cut Percy off before he could finish his story and asked if anyone else had a better one; the latter was obviously offended, but was ignored nonetheless.

"I've got one that'll make your rods rattle," Oliver piped up and effortlessly gained the whole lot's attention, including Thomas and Glynn's, "I'm sure not all of you have heard the story of how I narrowly escaped being Scrapped."

That last part in particular really caught Thomas and Glynn's attention, considering they've only heard a rumor or two of such an occasion. And not many rumors can prove that they are real.

"Oh, of course not—you've only told us about a hundred times!" Duck shouted in annoyance, earning a few murmurs of agreement and laughter.

"That may be true-!"

"It's one hundred-percent true!"

"But I haven't told you _everything_!" Some quirked their brows in interest while others simply rolled their eyes. "You might've heard the phrase 'you haven't lived until you've looked death in the eyes'—and I can vouch for that. You'll never even experience true trauma until you've heard the screams of agony that erupts from a scrapping facility, and you can't possibly know fear until you realize you're on death row. Before Douglas rescued me, I was in a constant state of terror because the owner of the Scrap Yard would come to me daily, just to remind me that she would put me through some of the worst pain imaginable…"

"What is he doing?" Thomas hissed under his breath, "That Cornish codger's gonna expose us."

"Calm down, there's nothing he can do. The lucky bastard's escape prevented him from discovering our true nature. And who would believe the braggart, anyway?" Glynn quickly pointed out.

"…So remember, the Grim Reaper is always waitin' within the walls of the Scrap Yard, but it seems that by fate, I escaped his cold grasp. And that's why I'm the infamous escapee of the Barry Scrap Yard."

Thomas' eyes shot wide with realization and a brilliant plan, "I think I just found it."

"Found what?" Glynn questioned softly.

"Encouragement."

* * *

"You want to what?!" Sir Topham Hatt couldn't believe what he just heard come out of his Number One engine's mouth; the said large man was standing outside of his house in his pajamas, and he was getting ready for bed when Thomas requested an audience with him. But what he was asking for was off limits.

"I know it's still a little too early for him, but it's my best shot at getting through to Faith," Thomas protested.

"You're damn right it's too early! If anyone found out Oliver was Scrapped when he was still in perfect working order, they would get suspicious and question our motives! We simply can't have that on our records!"

"Then we'll _make_ him ready for Scrapping. All we need is a well-placed accident, and all they need is Victor's word that he's broken beyond repair."

Sir Topham crossed his arms, "And how exactly are you planning to set up such a believable situation?"

Thomas grinned in excitement, as the malicious intent in his eyes became apparent, "You'd be surprised by what a little collaboration and pent up rage can get you."

* * *

The world was spinning, his head was aching, and his whole body in general was in great pain; Oliver was just on his way back to Callan Yard after Fright Night had finally ended, when he was suddenly ambushed by a shadow with a long metal limb.

It wasn't until after the dizziness of being thrown up against an unyielding rock wall faded away that he realized it was Diesel Ten, who was now smiling viciously at him as Pinchy clanked above him. Oliver wanted desperately to call out for help, but he now realized that Diesel Ten trapped him in an abandoned quarry to prevent just that.

"What's wrong with you?! I thought you were reformed!" Oliver cried, grunting when Diesel Ten reached down to grab his smokestack in a vice grip. He didn't even bother to put him back on the track, and instead just dangled him next to his face.

"Foolish little steamie, it's called acting," Diesel Ten growled darkly before effortlessly lifting him and slamming him into the ground on the other side of the tracks.

Blood dripped from Oliver's nose and mouth from the brute force of the impact, and he was only able to keep one eye opened when one of them was blackened upon landing. And with the one eye that still remained functional, Oliver was just able to catch a glimpse of the large rock that Diesel Ten grabbed and held above him.

"Sorry for the crude sedative, but I can't have you awake to prate about this encounter," Diesel Ten apologized, even though there wasn't an ounce of remorse in his voice, before bringing the rock down onto Oliver's smoke box with all his might. And as he blacked out, Oliver wasn't quite sure how, but he just couldn't shake the feeling that certain doom was awaiting him when he wakes up.

* * *

 **What are the odds the "Rusted Bird" would end up on Sodor? And can Thomas really use this to his to his advantage?**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


	6. Chapter 5 - Flashback: Backbone

Chapter 5 - Flashback: Backbone

It had been three days, and each time Glynn past by chamber sixteen, there was nothing but dead silence. But now, he would finally visit to let out his pathetic predecessor; although, Glynn suspected he wouldn't be pathetic anymore.

Glynn braced himself, though, in case he created a mentally insane monster that would dart out as soon as he opened the doors. Slowly but surely, the doors opened to reveal the pitch black room within.

 _Blasted motion sensor lights,_ Glynn cursed mentally, making a note to fix those later. But he focused on the task at hand: Checking to see if his pupil was stable or not. Without the lights, only a slow chuffing could be heard, and a blue mass eventually backed out. But then Glynn noticed the strangest thing; as Thomas was backing out, he could hear him mumbling under his breath, as if he were conversing with someone. But who? And a familiar horrible stench came with him.

Glynn couldn't confirm his theory if Thomas really was talking to someone else because the latter stopped just enough to reveal his back buffers, and the rest of him was still buried in the darkness. Cautiously, Glynn approached Thomas as his mumbling grew louder and the smell became stronger, but his speech wasn't directed towards him. When he was finally close enough to Thomas' face, he could just barely make out his eyes; they were wide and filled with—joy?

"Oh, Glynn!" Thomas gasped in true surprised when he finally noticed his mentor, "You interrupted us!"

"'Us'?" Glynn repeated with a cocked brow, and Thomas spoke again before he could ask about what exactly he interrupted.

"Yeah, Timothy and I were just talking about our pasts."

Glynn was debating whether or not Thomas had gone batshit crazy, for he was truly unnerved by the fact he may still have to educate a psycho. Not wanting to figuratively and literally remain in the dark much longer, Glynn activated the lights within the chamber, and they instantly revealed everything.

Not only were Thomas' eyes filled with happiness, but so was his crooked smile, to which bits of blackened flesh were stuck between his teeth; rustic blood smudged his face, boiler and cab, and some intestines were strung across his buffers and side tanks. Once he finished getting a better yet sickening look at Thomas, Glynn shifted his gaze to Timothy's corpse; his flesh had began to droop from rotting for so long, and it created curtains obvious holes bitten out of them, and between the red drapes was a space fit for a little engine.

"He spoke to me when the lights went out," Thomas eventually informed, "He may be a murderer, but Timothy's actually really nice and hospitable. He's a much better host than you, at least."

Glynn was speechless. How could Thomas have heard anything? Of all the years Glynn has spent working here, he never heard or saw anything resembling a supernatural or undead force. To put it simply, the Scrap Yard can't possibly be haunted. So, there was only one other explanation…

"Thomas—are you feeling ok?" Glynn asked softly.

"I am now, thank you. But if you'd asked me that three days ago, of course, I would've said no. For some reason, I got _really_ hungry when Timothy started talking to me, which is weird because engines don't get hungry. Anyway, like I said, he was so nice to me, that he said I could have some of his meat—he is dead, after all, so he didn't need it anymore." Thomas carried on as if everything he was saying was perfectly normal and sane. "And then it got really cold, too, so Timothy let me cuddle up to him for warmth. And ya know, he was still surprisingly warm for a dead body."

Glynn chuckled hysterically, trying to find the right words because he now knew he was harboring a true maniac, "U-Uh, heh…so you're…friends now?"

"We sure are! We have a lot in common. Then again, people are just so much nicer when they're dead," Thomas simply replied, "That being said, I'm willing to try Scrapping again."

"W-What?" Glynn stammered.

"I know I didn't do so well last time, but I'm willing to put the past behind me if you are. And if it means I can make more friends, there's no way I'm backing out now!"

Glynn paused to find the right words again. Did he do it? Did he transform this hopeless coward into the ruthless controller he needed to be? No, it couldn't be that easy—could it? Glynn figured there was only one way to find out.

"I suppose I can forgive you, but no going back and no more second chances. Got it?" Glynn firmly pointed out.

"Got it," Thomas confirmed.

With that, Thomas followed Glynn with an emotion he never would've expected to feel within the Scrap Yard: Excitement. They soon came up to Row Two, Section Four, where a L&YR Class 28 with rusted red paint, bright red wheels and thick eye brows was rendered immobile by giant fire stokers; each end was lit like a torch, and they dug into his side tanks and cab as smoke arose from the glowing ends. As the poor engine was being poked with scalding hot metal rods, he sobbed uncontrollably from the unyielding pain.

"He looks like James—just red," Thomas pondered aloud upon closer inspection.

"He should. This is Eagle, James' uncle," Glynn informed, "You know the drill: It's voice activated—everything is voice activated these days. Activate Guest Mode!"

Three chimes sounded overhead.

"How does this room work?" Thomas quickly asked.

"See those stokers?" Just as Glynn said that, three arms came down with more fire stokers in their grasp, creating a soft glow on Eagle's face when they stopped just inches away. "Tell them to 'burn through' and they'll handle the rest."

Thomas smiled and glanced up at Eagle's agony-traced face in anticipation, even staring him directly in the eyes before shouting, "Burn through!"

In an instant, two of the stokers pushed into Eagle's eyes, making him scream as they were burned away, but his screams were soon muffled when the third one forced its way into his mouth; blood poured from all three holes, as his insides effortlessly burned away with black smoke and the smell of charred flesh to prove it.

Once again, Glynn was utterly shocked. He just hadn't expected Thomas to change so easily, but he was impressed nonetheless. For the first time in a long time, Glynn had found an engine worth keeping.

"Wow—that was pretty easy," Thomas breathed in awe, pausing as he kept his gaze on Eagle, who had finally gone quiet after all bodily functions of thought and speech have died, "You said it, Eagle. That _is_ one way to go out."

Glynn awkwardly cleared his throat to cut into one of Thomas' 'conversations', "Ahem! Right, well—since you did such a fine job, I may consider letting you go outside soon."

"Really? That'd be awesome!" Thomas cheered.

Glynn took another look at his student, and suddenly remembered his bloodied appearance, "I'm sure it would—but you obviously can't go out looking like that. You're going to need a good wash down, and maybe a new coat of paint."

"All that sounds fun, but I still have one question."

"What?"

Thomas nervously glanced between Eagle and Glynn while his mouth began to water, "Are you going to eat that?"

* * *

 **There's a backbone, indeed. Be careful because beneath that bright blue and cheeky exterior, there's a psychotic cannibal. Just be glad you're not an engine...hopefully.**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


	7. Chapter 6 - Only One Survives

Chapter 6 - Only One Survives

It was dark—well, darker than usual—the smell of iron and rot made Faith sick to her stomach, and she quickly began to panic when she heard mechanical whirring and the static of the intercom system.

"Good morning, Faith. Sleep well?" Thomas' snake-like voice echoed throughout the pitch black void.

"W-Where am I?! What's happening?!" Faith questioned with a quiver.

"If I'm going to get through to you, I need to raise the stakes for good behavior. In other words, whatever happens, I need an eye for an eye."

The lights finally flickered on, revealing the situation that Faith was really in; she, along with an old green auto tank engine was sitting on opposite sides of the room, but they were connected by another chain that was connected by a hook on the ceiling between them, and behind the green engine was a wall of spinning saw blades.

"Remember the Rusted Bird you told me about? Well, this is him. His real name is Oliver, and he is _far_ overdue for a Scrapping. So, I'm going to make you a proposition, Faith. You can move forward and pull on the chain, thus pulling him into the saw blades. Or, you do nothing and wait for the hooks embedded in your side tanks to pull you apart like paper."

As Thomas spoke, Faith finally noticed the numb sensation in her side tanks, and she gasped when she saw four giant hooks buried deep in them.

"Now, normally, I don't mind slowing down the process to enjoy the show, but sadly, you only have three minutes to make a decision." Thomas paused to let out a dark chuckle. "But honestly, I won't mind the extra scrap."

"This is inhumane! You won't get away with this, whoever you are!" Oliver shouted at the top of his lungs, all while ignoring the pain in his black eye, bloodied nose and broken jaw.

"N-No…this is all my fault!" Faith sobbed.

"Hey, don't cry…Faith, was it? We'll get out of this, I promise!"

"You don't get it! Escape is impossible! We're gonna die, and it's all because of me!"

"Tick-tock, Faith. Two and a half minutes left," Thomas reminded them.

Right then, the hooks in Faith's side tanks tugged just a few centimeters, but it was enough to make her yelp in agony and terror, "No, please! I can't die!"

"Then what're you waiting for?"

"You're sick for making her choose between her life and that of another!" Oliver hissed. But two mechanical arms were lowered, one holding a razor blade and the other acted as a clamp; the clamp reached into Oliver's mouth and forcefully pulled out his tongue, and the razor was immediately brought down and severed the slimy muscle. Blood-curdling screams erupted from Oliver, as blood pooled from his mouth, creating a crimson waterfall down his chin and buffers.

"If I'd known you were going to be this chatty, I would've removed your tongue sooner," Thomas grimly pointed out, "And I'm not the sick one here. Technically speaking, you are a criminal for refusing your rightful execution at the Barry Scrap Yard. Once this is over, I'll be sure to give them half of your metal since you were rightfully theirs in the first place—but I am still going take all of the credit."

Oliver wanted desperately to argue, but his speech only came out as gurgled cries as he wept from the pain. Faith had watched in silence the whole time, staring with wide eyes, mouth agape, and tears dried.

"Why do you try so hard?" Faith's voice was barely over a whisper, "You're relentless…I already told you, we'll never get out of here alive."

Oliver merely managed to cough up clumps of blood in response, "I-I…o…a'ee…"

"Of course you wouldn't agree, and that's because we all thrive on futility. No one just gives up on a whim, they just keep hoping…but there is none." Faith was silent as her eyes slowly traveled to the saw blades behind Oliver.

"And I was a fool for believing, too."

Without warning, Faith puffed steam and pulled with all her might, all while ignoring the pain of the hooks in her tanks turning; it took her a moment to really get an engine that was bigger and heavier than her moving, but she eventually got Oliver moving backwards at a fair pace. The other end of the chain was set over the wall of saws, coming out between them and connected to Oliver's back buffers, so that he was slowly but surely pulled into the giant razors spinning at blinding speeds.

There was one small instant where Faith caught Oliver's gaze before he met his demise, "I-I'm so sorry—but I don't want to die."

Each blade was placed in a certain spot, so that when Oliver was pulled through, his metal and vital organs were perfectly cut into four different sections. He didn't even have time to scream, as he was effortlessly split apart like bloody play dough. Once he was through, the blades began to slow while mechanical arms reached down to collect the valuable metal and prepare it for cleaning, and others cleaned up the rest of the gory mess and disposed of Oliver's shredded flesh.

It didn't take long for Faith to realize what she had just done; she continued to remain silent, sans for her now shaky breathing, but tear after tear spilled from her eyes.

The intercom buzzed again, "Nicely done. Not only was that your first, albeit unorthodox, Scrapping, but you've just scrapped the wanted escapee of the prestige Barry Scrap Yard. Do you have any idea how good that will look on your record?"

Thomas' tone was composed of true appeasement, which was indeed a surprise to Faith. But her tears didn't stop.

"I-I…don't know what came over me," Faith meekly admitted.

"Yes, you do," Thomas firmly protested, "You were well aware of the inevitable, whereas, Oliver was not. That bothered you, didn't it?"

"Yeah…it did…he should've known this was going to happen, no matter what."

"Exactly my point. You're smarter than you think, and you finally figured out the cost of being an engine and being alive in general."

"I think I do—we're made with the metal of other engines, we work until we can't work anymore, and then we're Scrapped to give new engines metal. And the cycle repeats, over and over…and over…and only the luckiest survive."

Thomas beamed beneath his mask, "No, Faith. Only One survives."

* * *

Kevin snored loudly when night fell over the Steam Works, but his boss was quite the opposite of a serene sleep state. Victor's mind raced with fears of worst case scenarios; he knows what he had done, and he knows of the consequences that come with his decisions. Being the caretaker of broken engines came with huge responsibilities, including making important and horrifying decisions. Victor had been doing it for years, but he still couldn't get over it.

 _Querido Dios…what if they find out? They will riot for sure, all of them…maybe even the whole world…why wouldn't they? This is a cruel act of-!_

"Evening, Victor." That voice. That chilled, poison-coated voice. Victor didn't need to think twice about who had just entered his Steam Works.

"T-Thomas? U-Uh, how are you, My Friend? And what brings you here at this time of night?" Victor stuttered quietly, as to not wake his crane employee.

"As surprising as it may sound, I'm feeling pretty good. That's just weird, isn't it, considering everything that's been happening lately? Lack of sleep and all that," Thomas rambled on with a smirk, as he let himself in with a puff of steam, "And I've come here to thank you. I understand lying about a staged accident like that can't be easy, so your devotion to the Scrapping Industry is greatly appreciated."

"Maldicion! Keep your voice down! Do you want someone to hear you?!" Victor whisper-shouted, bringing his voice even lower because of his paranoia.

"Relax, you old grease ball. Even if Kevin did hear us, he'll just think it was a dream," Thomas argued while puffing closer to Victor, bearing that unbearable, shit-eating grin again, "No one would believe it all, anyway—oh, and I have some good news."

Victor puffed back a few feet, and quirked a brow in curiosity, "What kind of good news?"

Thomas chuckled, "The good kind, obviously. You haven't met her yet, so I'll be bringing my apprentice here tomorrow. I'd like you two to make an acquaintance, considering you two may become business partners someday."

"Your apprentice? But I thought they weren't allowed back out until they fully proved their trust and will to the Scrapping Industry," Victor pointed out in surprise.

"And she has—enough of it, at least. Besides, she's really been wanting to see Ulfstead Castle, and who am I to crush that dream?" Thomas explained as he began exiting the building.

"Just a heartless snake," Victor mumbled under his breath grimly, but he nearly gasped when he heard Thomas laugh in great amusement.

"You're not wrong!"

* * *

 **Bet you thought I was dead:P** **Wrong!**

 **Well, Faith seems to have finally snapped. How will she handle herself once she's let back into the outside world after what she's done?**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


	8. Chapter 7 - Flashback: Accidents Happen

Chapter 7 - Flashback: Accidents Happen

Victor made a few cautious rounds around the Steam Works to ensure everything was shut down and put in its proper place, therefore declaring the building, as well as himself, ready for the night. But just as the Cuban engine settled in and began to close his eyes, a horrible stench of rot and rust wafted through the air. Victor gagged at the smell as it grew stronger, but he then heard the sound of what seemed like two engines puffing closer.

Curious, the manager of the Steam Works puffed out of his shed, only to be greeted by a surprise visit from Glynn and a small teal engine he had never seen before. The lobby was dimly lit by now, but it only took a minute for Victor realize that the terrible smell was coming from the teal engine…and that he was covered from buffer to buffer in a peculiar red and black substance.

"Glynn, what are you doing here? …And w-what happened to-?" Victor questioned, his voice stuttering once his eyes averted back to the teal engine.

"He's fine—physically, at least," Glynn replied slowly.

"Hi, I'm Thomas," Thomas greeted with a crooked smile.

"Ok—why is he covered in blood?" Victor couldn't help but ask.

"You seriously don't know why an engine working at the Scrap Yard is covered in blood? Come on, Victor," Glynn pointed out sarcastically, "I brought him here because I need you to give him a new coat of paint."

"Shouldn't you take him to the Wash Down first?"

"They're closed. And I know you have powerful water jets to clean blood off of engines who've been in really fatal accidents, so you're perfectly capable of cleaning him, too."

Victor growled in defeat, unable to deny that Glynn was right, "Fine. I'll have him cleaned up and repainted by morning."

"Good. Don't let him leave until I come by to pick him up." Glynn backed up to leave, but stopped next to Thomas. "And you, listen to everything Victor says."

"Whatever you say, Boss," Thomas answered snidely.

Once Glynn left, Victor stared in disgust at the blood and somewhat dried flesh on Thomas' once vibrant teal paint.

"If you take a picture, it'll last longer," Thomas broke the silence, a smirk bigger plastered on his face.

"That's not what I—it doesn't matter. Come with me," Victor firmly instructed, and led Thomas towards the back of the building; he led him into a completely concreted room with showerheads strewn about metal pipes all across the ceiling and upper walls. Thomas stayed put when Victor told him to remain still, and powerful jets of hot water were fired at Thomas moments later.

He flinched and bit his lower lip when the outer edges of the streams hit his face, but refused to make a sound to signal that he was in pain. Thomas knew he could never show weakness ever again. Even after nearly fifteen minutes of power washing, some of the blood still stuck to him, but the rest of him shimmered after the steam dispersed.

"How did you get so bloody, anyway?" Victor pressed on.

"Glynn says I should never talk about what happens at the Scrap Yard," Thomas replied in disappointment.

"Oh."

Almost instantly, Thomas smiled brightly, "But you seem real trustworthy! Not to give away _too_ much, I basically tore apart an engine from the inside out."

"O-Oh…?" Victor swallowed down a large ball of fear.

"Don't worry, he was already dead." There was an awkward pause. "So, what colors are you gonna give me?"

* * *

Thomas was rather restless through the night, especially after being repainted with vibrant blue coloration; Victor told him that it was a popular choice amongst the engines of the Great Western Rails, and that Sir Topham Hatt would greatly appreciate him wearing his railway's colors.

 _Sir Topham Hatt…I can't wait to meet you!_ Thomas thought in unkempt excitement, _I wonder if he likes maliciously mutilating engines as much as I do…_

Suddenly, Thomas' aimless gaze was caught by a snare of sunlight, as the said giant star was slowly rising to start the new day. Time had flown by much faster than Thomas had expected, and he was glad; he couldn't remember the last time he saw daylight.

A snort from a slumbering Victor averted Thomas' attention to him, to which the latter finally remembered that he fell asleep hours ago. And that gave him an idea.

"Glynn never said I couldn't explore outside a bit. And if anyone should get in trouble, it'll be Victor for not watching after me properly," Thomas whispered to himself, and then gasped in realization, "Ooh, maybe he'll be sent to us for punishment!"

So, with that thought, Thomas quietly crept out of the Steam Works without waking Victor, and ventured out to discover more of Sodor on his own. For a while, Thomas meandered in silence and wonder, looking forward to finding other engines that will most likely come to him for a delicious Scrapping. His mouth began to water when he approached a large property with a grand topped with a glass ceiling in the center of it all.

The first thing he spotted was a slightly bigger engine with the same blue coloration as him, so he smiled brightly and quickly approached.

"Hello, Edward!" Thomas greeted.

The other engine stopped shunting a short train of cars when he heard the new voice, but smiled immediately when he saw Thomas, "Oh, hi, Thomas! I haven't seen you in a while. Where have you been?"

"Oh, you know, being useful and contributing to society in any way I can."

"Well, it's really great to see you again, Thomas. I was starting to worry."

Thomas smiled snidely, "You have no reason to worry about _me_ , Edward. I can take care of myself."

"Oh, really? You took care of yourself when you accidentally backed into a train of cars too hard?" Edward subtly reminded Thomas of the time he ran into some cars during his first day on Sodor.

"Careful, Edward. Some people will hold grudges if you taunt them too much," Thomas' once friendly tone quickly changed into a threatening hiss.

"I wasn't taunting you! I was just making a point," Edward quickly retorted before going back to his work.

The said younger engine quirked a brow, "What're you doing?"

"Shunting these trucks out of the way," Edward replied.

"Why?"

"I need to clear the line for the express trains."

"But why so early in the day? The sun isn't even all the way up yet."

"Some people wake up really early, so the express trains have to be ready even earlier."

Thomas finally stopped following Edward at that, allowing the latter to head off and finish his chores. He contemplated what engines Sir Topham Hatt would require once the current engines he is using were no longer useful. He wanted desperately to ask Edward, but he knew he couldn't not only because that would compromise their secret work, but also because Edward wouldn't be able to give him an answer anyway. He wouldn't know he would be promptly replaced after being killed in a heartbeat, so what's the point in asking him? Why ask anyone?

"Heeeeeelp! Help, me! I can't stop!" A familiar voice pierced the air, as a sudden rush of black darted through the yard, the smell of smoke pungent in Thomas' nose.

"James?" Thomas questioned aloud and puffed after him. He was curious because of the smoke that constantly emitted from James. Was he on fire? Would he fatally crash in a fiery explosion? He hoped not.

He eventually caught up with James to find that the source of the smoke was coming from his now flaming brakes.

"What's wrong with your brakes?!" Thomas shouted.

"They're made of wood! I tried to stop, but these damn trucks wouldn't stop pushing me and they caught on fire!" James called back in terror, as a whoosh of flames burst forth and barely licked Thomas' buffers.

"On, on, on!" the trucks taunted before laughing maniacally, failing to notice the danger they were in.

Before Thomas could devise a plan, he noticed a sharp bend fast approaching; he applied his own brakes and hoped for the best for James. Unfortunately, Lady Luck was not on James' side, as he cried out in utter fear when he came off the tracks; skidding face-first through a wooden fence and into a cattle field, creating a deep rut in the dirt and gravel, and scratching and muddying up his ebony paint something awful.

Thomas chuffed forward slowly to examine the carnage, taking in how mangled some of James' wheels, rods and axels had become from the accident. If he didn't know any better, he would say there was no hope for James. And if there was no hope for him, then that means…

Thomas beamed from buffer to buffer.

"Don't worry, James! I'll be right back with some help!" Thomas called reassuringly before puffing away as fast as he could, leaving an unconscious James behind with the curious cattle.

When Thomas retuned with Judy and Jerome the break down train, James was still in a coma-like state. The twin break down engines quickly went to work on carefully lifting James off of the ground and onto a large flatbed. Thomas then coupled himself up to the flatbed and began pulling him away, to which Judy and Jerome were very confused.

"Where are you going?" Judy was first to ask.

"I'm taking him to the Steam Works before it's too late!" Thomas lied.

"What about us?!" Jerome frantically called.

"I'll send for someone to retrieve you, don't worry!"

* * *

James slowly awoke with a parched throat, one side of his face aching, and pounding migraine; even after blinking his eyes open, he could barely make out his surroundings. It was dark and the air hung heavy with a metallic smell; it made him want to gag.

A single light switched on, and a small blue engine soon rolled into it with a twisted smile, as he stared up at him with suppressed excitement.

"Thomas? W-Where are we? What h-happened?" James asked meekly, as dark thoughts raced through his mind when he theorized as to where they were.

"So, you _do_ remember me? Huh. I'm surprised considering how much a sinning narcissist you are," Thomas admitted with a grin.

"I'm not a narcissist!" James snapped.

"You're a liar, too."

With that, mechanical whirring could be heard when another light flipped on above James, revealing a large set of smooth and curved blades just a few inches his forehead and cheeks.

"Ever wondered what it's like to be a freshly-peeled potato? Well, you can put that question to rest now—remove the skin!" Thomas giggled before the blades slowly began cutting, peeling his skin back like that of a potato. James shrieked in incomprehensible pain, as blood flowed and pieces of his flesh fell to the floor with a loud flop. Already, the skin of his cheeks and forehead were missing, and only gaping, pulsing and oozing dents were left.

"Oh, come on! We literally just started, and you're already on the verge of bleeding out?! Chivalry really is dead!" Thomas scolded in anger.

"W-Why…are y-y-you…doing this?" James questioned between bloody coughs.

"Because it's my job, you idiot," Thomas answered flatly.

"STOP!"

A commanding voice boomed, echoing off of the walls of the Scrapping Chamber while the blades stopped abruptly. Glynn soon came puffing in heaving, an obvious sign that he had been in a hurry.

"What are you doing?!" Glynn scolded his predecessor.

"I'm Scrapping an engine on my own. Aren't you proud of me?" Thomas asked with high hopes.

"NO! I'M NOT!"

"But…I thought he wouldn't be able to work anymore…"

"Just because an engine has one accident, it doesn't always mean they won't be useful anymore! And it's the Steam Works' job to declare them broken beyond repair, not ours!"

Glynn then went silent while pulling into a siding to gently back into a lever, causing a pair of robotic arms to lower his mask down and fit it onto his face.

"Now, because of you, I have to make it so this never happened," Glynn snarled beneath his mask, and another arm was soon lowered; it held a large syringe with a clear liquid inside within its grasp, and was carefully calibrated into it was located directly above James' left eye.

Without warning, the needle was pushed deep into James' cranium, to which he grunted and whined with a shaky breath. Almost immediately after all of the liquid in the syringe was drained into him, James began slipping into a forced coma; he began to lose all feeling before his eyes rolled back into his skull.

Thomas was terrified of even speaking to Glynn, but he was way too curious not to ask, "W-What…was that?"

"It's a special serum the Scrapping Industry invented in case of accidents like _yours_ ," Glynn growled in response, "It causes whomever is injected with it to go into a sort of 'memory-wiping' coma."

"You mean he'll forget who he is?"

"Not at all. It only erases very recent memories, obviously the ones he made at your expense. He'll remember the accident, and nothing else after that. He'll need to be taken to the Steam Works as quickly as possible, so that he can be stitched up before he really does bleed out."

"Ok, I'll go get coupled up to a flatbed, and-."

"No!" Glynn's stern voice stopped Thomas dead in his tracks when he tried exiting the room. "You've done enough today. From now on, you're not going anywhere without my supervision. If I catch you outside by yourself, you will never see the light of day again. Understood?"

Thomas shriveled underneath Glynn's poisonous tone, and even though his face was hidden behind his mask, he could feel his fiery glare burn right through him, "Yes, Mr. Glynn…I'm sorry."

"Shut up and get out."

* * *

 **I'm surprised Glynn gave him another chance after what happened.**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


End file.
